I have heard girl’s giggle
As I walked alone
The hard stones
And thought on lover’s wriggles.
Then returned home
To my bed to lie
Where no lover’s sigh
And the emptiness of night
Grips me tight.
But when love dies
Lovers also cry.
There is much on display today
In the sultry city.
I am witty.
We chat of this and that.
She laughs. adjusts the rucksack
On my back.
I think on mermaids
And know I grow old.
There once was a thief named Bill
Who dated a young lady called Jill.
He stole her heart
And all her art,
So they locked him in a mill!
I’ve just met a very naughty nymph
Who winked at me from a plinth.
Her name is Miss Follett
And she has my wallet!
Dear reader! Have you seen that nymph!
Listening to windchimes
I think how we strive,
Always struggling to arrive.
And, for a moment find
All striving cease
And peace
In windchimes.
There once was a student named Gwen
Who was fond of throwing her pen.
A teacher called Lou
Said, “that won’t do!”,
And threw that pen back at Gwen!
An insightful article entitled “what it means to be human in an age of intelligent machines”, https://thepoetspeace.wordpress.com/2025/06/24/what-it-means-to-be-human-in-an-age-of-intelligent-machines/.
I think the author makes some excellent points. However, whilst artificial intelligences (AIS) can vacuum up vast amounts of data (the poetry of John Keats, William Shakespeare Etc) and produce a “poem” from that data, it does not comprehend what it is doing. Nor does it feel real emotion.
In contrast, the poet on hearing the song of the blackbird as the dusk comes down is profoundly moved. He feels sadness mingled with joy and the overflowing of his emotions leads to the composition of poetry. Whilst an AI may vacuum up the poet’s work and produce a poem based on it, the poem (and the other poems utilised by the AI in the composition of it’s poem) have, for want of a better word, been stolen. The AI feels nothing and comprehends nothing.
When a ferryman who sailed the great river Styx
Went and pelted me and my mates with bricks,
Me and Moat
Sank his boat,
Which now lies at the bottom of the Styx!
A young lady who is fond of booze
Lost her stiletto shoes in the river Ouse.
Now a naughty nun
Wears them for fun –
We met on a round the world cruise!
I met a man with a perm
Who called me a worthless worm.
I grabbed sharp sheers
And despite his tears
I cut off that worthless perm!
K Morris - Poet 